Birthday Kiss
by Meepa
Summary: Sometimes good things happen on special days. Thiefshipping Bakura x Malik.


Written for the most amazing girl in the world – Nevi. Sorry it's a little later than expected.

This story's somewhat fast-paced, and might be confusing at parts (even though it's short). I'm just going to say that it makes perfect sense to _me_.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

**.: Birthday Kiss :.**

The day was almost solemn; quiet and dim. Rain fell to the ground in thin sheets, causing the figure watching the scene to snort softly. "Figures. Not even special enough to get snow."

It had snowed earlier in the week, though the winds had shifted making the air became humid and warmer than usual. The icy droplets melted before they hit the ground, taking away any remnants of the beautiful, pure powder. Malik sighed and shifted, letting out breath onto his fingers to ebb away at the frigid numbness. He looked worn down, almost like a piece of clothing that had outstayed its time, bearing frayed ends and holes. He certainly did not look like someone should on their birthday.

The window he was leaning against had become heavily frosted and he gently set his finger against the glass, trailing it in several directions; clearing a shallow path to see through.

He had never gotten to witness the sight of snow before when he, his sister, and Rishid had lived in the sun-blessed lands of Egypt. And, in all honesty, he thought it was a beautiful curse. It was tender and seemed to glow with an ethereal light; it caused him to feel as though he were in a wonderful dream. Yet at the same time, it was bitterly cold and it burned his skin when it touched him. But of course, it had refused to snow on his birthday. Then again, why had he hoped it would? Nothing good or cheer-worthy ever happened on this day. All that ever came from it was pain and things that now sought refuge in his darkest nightmares. His mother's death, his own personal curse to carry upon his back (quite literally)... He had never had a cake with candles or presents, or even friends to pass the time with. He didn't deserve to be graced with such blessings.

A sudden, distant knocking yanked him back down to the hard ground and he paused, barely noting the searing cold on the end of his finger from its contact the windowpane. He knew no one would answer the call, for his sister had retired for a short nap (she wasn't feeling completely well), and Rishid had noticed they were out of a few things so he had made himself useful and gone to the store. The knocking came again after a few seconds, before Malik sighed and lifted his finger up to suck on it; attempting to draw the blood back to it as well as warmth. Who would come to their apartment on such a day? It was possible it was a neighbor who needed help with one thing or another, but everyone in this building tended to keep their own business to themselves. The fingers of his free hands wrapped around the knob and he twisted, opening the door.

Before him stood a teen with wild grey hair and molten bronze eyes. He was dressed in a winter sweater and had a scarf wrapped around his neck, covering up the bottom of his chin, as well as earmuffs hiding his ears from view. Malik, completely caught off guard, just remained still, finger idly slipping from his teeth. "Bakura?" he asked quietly, blinking his pale eyes several times to test if he had lost what sanity he had left or not. The other made a soft gruntlike noise and smirked.

"Frankly, I would have been offended if you didn't remember who I was."

Battle City flooded into his mind, and the whirling images caused him to nearly fall to his knees and vomit. What was the spirit here? More importantly, what did he want? The Egyptian had never thought that he and the pale man would ever run into each other again. Hell, they didn't even live in the same city! The Ishtars had made damn sure they were nowhere near Yuugi-tachi when they made the move back to Japan. Yes, the conflict had been resolved, but that didn't mean there was no tension at all between them. There _was_, and it was so thick it made it impossible to breathe correctly. How did the thief know he was here? _How_? But no, he couldn't let the other win their unspoken battle. "Go away," he said with a glare that didn't waver.

The ghostlike being chuckled before he shifted his weight onto one leg. "What, not going to thank me for coming to your birthday party?" he quipped, his voice sounding like a single fluent rhythm.

Malik felt a large lump form solidly in his throat and he tried so hard to swallow it down. It made it difficult to take in air. Oh, Re... Nothing good ever came with birthdays. He didn't want to imagine what Bakura had in store, but he started to anyway. In a sudden burst of adrenaline, the blonde threw the door shut. But instead of a slam, he heard a dull thump. His eyes widened and he looked down to see the other's foot lodged in the doorway. "Get out!" he yelled, though he had to wonder if it was anywhere near as loud as he thought it was going to be.

Bakura wasn't even fazed by this and leaned forward, pushing away what stood between them and entered the apartment. He shut it behind him with a quiet click, and then, just like something from one of his nightmares, advanced on Malik. The dark-skinned male took three steps backward before he turned and flat-out ran. He didn't care what he looked like; he just wanted to get the hell away. He could hear the spirit's footsteps pounding after his, and it made his heart try to leap straight out of his body. Without thinking, he spun into the first room he met, which turned out of be the bathroom. He shut the door with a bang and locked it before, for the first time, heard himself panting as though he were suffocating. His ears were hyper-sensitive, but he heard no sounds aside from his own body's. He vaguely wondered if Bakura could hear his heart thundering so loudly as well. The rush was starting to wear off, and he began to question if he hadn't just imagined the whole ordeal (it wouldn't have been the first time), until a new thought came to his mind. What if the other truly was there, and was going after his sister? "Bakura?" he asked, his voice giving a fearful crack.

There was only silence to answer him. Oh, gods above, what if he really was losing it? He felt so many emotions swirling and tumbling around him that he wanted to scream and claw at his own skin and –

"_What_?" came the muffled yet snappy reply.

Malik felt more relief than he would ever care to be let known to the world, as a small sigh escaped his lips, taking the severe weight with it, before he spoke. "Why are you here?" he asked, letting his cheek fall to press against the wood in front of him.

The was another bought of silence followed by rustling. "To fucking tap dance on your roof while wearing a skirt," Bakura shot at him. He them rolled his eyes, though the blonde would never see it. "I came to see how the birthday boy was faring. Apparently not too well."

No, that couldn't be right. That had to be a lie. Why, of all things, would Bakura travel for an hour and a half by bus _just_ to say 'hello'? "I don't believe you," he murmured in answer.

He heard a snort. "Of course you don't."

A pause.

"How did you know...?"

"What, that it was your 'special day'"

"Yes. And where we live."

He could almost feel the spirit smirk. "The internet is a wonderful thing."

Another drawn out gap of nothing before the awkwardly loud (or, at least, it seemed to be) sound of the lock turning and the door being opened filled the apartment. Malik, who was still on his hands and knees, looked out and saw Bakura sitting against the wall directly across from him. He had taken his scarf and gloves off, but his face remained flushed from the chill of the outside air.

"Then you came a long way for nothing," the violet-eyed teen deadpanned. He moved to sit up and dust himself off, though there wasn't any dirt on him.

"Actually, it wasn't my doing to travel here. My host came to visit his grandparents, but I figured since I was in the neighborhood..."

"There's nothing _special_ about birthdays," Malik growled, eyes flashing with emotion. "You just celebrate yourself becoming that much closer to dying."

The statement seemed to quiet the Spirit of the Ring, but it didn't look like it shocked him in the least. "Dying isn't such a bad thing," he commented. "It's seen as a freedom from the burdans of this word." Both of them knew that much was a lie, but the words themseles held a sliver of comfort to them. Bakura's eyes hardened and narrowed, causing a chill to run up Malik's spine. "But I know it's not just death that's bothering you. Are you positive that nothing good has happened on any single one of your birthdays...?"

Malik stared, almost as if he were horrified someone knew the intimate details of his life. But then the image of when he placed a fragment of his soul into Ryou Bakura's mind surface. Was that how...? Was that piece still there? He shuddered. "I would have remembered it if there had been," he hissed bitterly. He turned his head away and didn't care to look up at Bakura moved closer, but he certainly did when he felt lips press against the corner of his own. He was sure that if time hadn't stopped, his eyes would have fallen from his head.

"Really?" whispered the husky voice. "You can't think of a single one?"

It was in the moment that he realized something. Bakura understood. He saw deeper into the blonde than he ever let on, and he was far from ignorant. But did he really hold an _attractio_n for him...? The tanned male knew for a long time that he would never fall in love. Never. Who would want him – a broken, soiled shell of a person?

Malik, face starting to feel quite heated, turned to look the spirit in the eye. "Well... I might be able to think of _one_ thing," he replied, voice unsure. But he knew exactly what he wanted as the other's mouth ascended on his once again and it deepened to something more than _just_ a kiss.

And now, with _complete_ certainty, Malik could say that sometimes... birthdays could be simply amazing.

Besides, who the hell needed snow, anyway...?

**.: The End :.**


End file.
